Red Tulips For Fridays
by Converser18
Summary: Santana and Brittany are meant to be together, but it takes a heart-breaking day at school for Santana to realize that life's too short to hide from who you really are.
1. Chapter 1

_**Okay, so this is a VERY angsty, dark piece. I've always wanted to write a story about this topic because I wanted to explore characters' responses and feelings in this type of situation. Though I will include other characters' reactions and emotions, this is a Brittana fic, so I will mostly focus on them. If you like what I've written so far, leave a review so I know it's something people are interested in reading. Thanks so much, and I hope you enjoy!**_

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><p><em>7:00 AM<em>

The sky was a burnt orange, a very unusual color for daybreak. There was a calmness in the air due to the dry and windless sky that was eerily hovering over the outskirts of town. All along the suburban neighborhood streets of Lima, Ohio, sat boxed houses containing unsuspecting teenagers, who were regrettably getting ready to drive to the local high school.

Most of the students knew each other fairly well. After spending eight plus years together, growing up, it was hard not to. But with such close proximities, came heated and unfriendly relationships and hurtful gossip and rumors, which plagued the town relentlessly. Though Lima was located in present day America, "land of the free," there was an unspoken caste system that not only the middle and high-school students lived by. When you were born in Lima, you were either an "It" or you were no one.

Sadly, those who were less-than-qualified in their ranking and status were also the individuals _least _likely to find their way out. Most of those families had lived in Lima for three, four, five generations, and barely any of them got away.

For the upper-class citizens, opportunities were plentiful. The doctors, lawyers, and businessmen and women of Lima constantly reminded their children of the world outside of small-town Ohio. Those children had their futures to look forward to; those kids could spend their time dreaming and planning for something better.

The first house on the nicer side of Lima was the home of Dr. Lopez and his wife and two children. Their abode was probably the finest home in all of Lima, seated on a beautiful couple of acres of land and towering over the other, nearby houses. The Lopez family was also the wealthiest family in Lima, and had a lot of pull in the local government. They funded the campaigns and meetings that the citizens reluctantly took part in.

Though Dr. and Mrs. Lopez's oldest son had long graduated and finished his undergraduate at Berkley and law school at Harvard, they also had a younger daughter who was just as smart and talented. Santana Lopez was fierce and extremely motivated. She had a niche in the high school that most of the other kids would have killed for. On this fateful morning, she was happily getting ready for her regular school day, trying to fight back the enormous grin that had been plastered on her face since the previous night before.

Santana was staring at herself in the closet mirror, admiring her obvious beauty. Her dark, smooth hair was pulled up into a pristinely knit ponytail that helped accent her deep, chocolate-brown eyes. Her plump lips were covered with a creamy lip gloss and her eyelashes were neatly coated with dark mascara. Though she was wearing a very basic cheerleading top and short skirt, she still managed to look amazing. As Santana twirled herself around in front of her closet door, she knew she looked good, and she gave in, letting herself smile brightly and showing off her dazzling white teeth.

After doing several once-overs to make sure she looked perfect, she turned to grab her keys that were resting on the nearby dresser top. As she exited her bedroom and proceeded down the over-sized wooden staircase to the foyer, she could hear her mother singing a familiar Spanish tune and could smell her father making bacon, eggs, and coffee. To Santana, these sounds and aromas reminded her of her childhood and comforted her greatly. She loved her parents more than anything and was extremely grateful for everything they did for her.

She walked down the hall and entered the large, beautiful kitchen. Her mother was sitting at the long, dinning table with the newspaper laid out if front of her; she was no longer singing, but humming the song that Santana knew backwards and forwards.

Her father was standing behind the marble-countered island, flipping a dozen bacon pieces, while simultaneously scrambling a couple sizzling eggs. Santana smiled again, warmly as she approached her father to give him a morning hug.

"Hi, dad," she greeted as she wrapped her arms around the front side of her father and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"Good morning, hija," Dr. Lopez responded, pausing his cooking to turn around and face Santana.

As his eyes fell upon his darling little girl, he couldn't help but wonder why she was acting so friendly. Normally, Santana would barely say hello in the morning before running out the door. Though he wasn't complaining, he was curious at the newfound kindness resonating from his daughter.

"Why are _you_ so happy?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow curiously and chuckling softly. He turned back to the stove to continue making breakfast, while waiting for Santana's response.

Santana's mind immediately returned to the memories of the previous night that had been on constant repeat throughout her morning. Though she was happy to replay the images in her own head, she was pretty sure her parents wouldn't have been as impressed or thrilled. In fact, she was sure her parents would throw a fit if they knew what Santana had been doing with a certain blonde friend of hers at such late hours in her bedroom. She laughed loudly at the thought of them finding out.

"No reason, papá," she gently patted her father on the back as she reached over him to grab a piece of bacon from the plate the cooling slices were resting on and tossed it in her mouth to eat.

She then proceeded to the dinning table to say hello and goodbye to her mother before she left the house. Mrs. Lopez was dressed in her navy blue robe and slippers. Her hair was a complete mess, but she looked comfortable, and Santana grinned again.

"Good morning, mom," Santana said as she pulled out the chair next to her mother and reached for a banana that was resting in a wooden bowl on the table. As she sat down, her mother looked up to her with the same incredulous eyes that her father had displayed only moments before.

Instead of addressing Santana, Mrs. Lopez looked to her husband, questioningly. "Is this _our_ daughter, Martin?"

Dr. Lopez laughed again and shrugged his shoulders, as if wondering the same thing.

"Well, good morning to you, Santana, darling," her mother responded, still holding an unsure expression.

Santana just rolled her eyes at her parents' joking attitude as she pulled apart the banana peal to eat the delicious fruit. As she took a giant bite, she let her eyes wander up to her mother who was still staring at her curiously.

"What?" Santana asked as she swallowed her bite and stared back at her mother.

Mrs. Lopez could tell that something was up with her daughter, but she respected her daughter's privacy. So, she shook her head and returned to the morning paper that she had been diligently reading. "Nothing, querida," she answered.

Santana got up from her chair and made her way over to the fridge on the other side of the kitchen. When she opened the door, she reached for a bottle of water and twisted the top off, closing the door behind her. After she had taken a gulp, she walked back over to her father to place a kiss to his cheek.

"Bye, papá," she said, and she left the kitchen, quickly, leaving behind a very confused mother and father.

Santana entered the garage that was located off of the hallway to the side of the kitchen. She continued until she was standing at the driver's side of her black BMW and peered into the back seat to make sure her bag was still there. When she found it, resting in the far corner, she opened the front car door and fell onto the leather seat, putting her keys into the ignition, placing the car into reverse, and rolling out of the safe confines of her home.

She was on her way to Brittany's, the blonde that had been interrupting her thoughts and greatly affecting her personality all morning. Though the blonde was Santana's safe haven, there was a great fear that accompanied their more-than-friend relationship. Santana was scared of many things, but the possible consequences of people finding out she was interested in another girl, in _that_ way, were more haunting than all the others combined.

Though Brittany seemed sure of what she wanted from Santana—a real relationship—Santana was less inclined to agree. She was more than happy hiding who she was from her friends and family and sneaking around with Brittany behind everyone's backs. She seemed to think Brittany was too naïve and innocent to understand what a "real" relationship constituted, so she had tried tricking the blonde into believing that a mind blowing orgasm meant that they were an official couple. Unfortunately for Santana, Brittany wasn't as dumb as she came across. In fact, Brittany had been the one to trick the Latina. Knowing that she would just bring up the same conversation the following day, like nothing had changed, she still got to come _really _hard. Today was the following day, so Santana's happy, blissful mood was about to change dramatically.

But more importantly, Santana and Brittany and the rest of the student body at McKinley High were about to get a rude awakening; Santana's closeted issue was about to become the least of her worries.

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><p>On the other side of town, another city resident resided. Unlike Santana, David Karofsky was not nearly as privileged. Where Santana had a giant mansion, David lived in a run-down apartment with his absent older brother. David's father had left when he was too young, and his mother had died when he was in elementary school.<p>

David didn't have a parental figure that he could look up to and admire. His brother was the closest thing he had to a role model, but Andrew Karofsky was far from a law abiding citizen. He came home each night, hammered and too high to care. His addictions to various drugs fueled his rage and abuse towards David, growing up. The poor boy was scarred, permanently, and the only thing he had to look forward to was getting the hell out of Lima.

Though his brother had antagonized him relentlessly, constantly telling him that he was worthless and would be stuck in Ohio forever, David tried to study and do well in school. He wasn't the smartest kid on the block, but what he lacked in intelligence, he made up for in size and stature. He was a large guy and could pound a load of bricks with his bare hands if he wanted to. He joined the football team at McKinley during freshman year and learned to let his frustration out on the field. But when he played, he got hammered in the head and the little bit of smart in him, began to dwindle more and more.

Junior year, he got kicked off of the football team because his grades had slipped too much. By that time, it was too late to even try and finish the year off strong, so he turned to the one thing he knew too well: violence.

David met a group of his brother's friends who weren't as into drugs, but just as mean and aggressive. They got involved in various low-level crimes that made them some money and entertained them. They bullied kids at school just for the fun of it.

But while David was slumming away like his brother, he still kept his dream of one day leaving Lima and doing something with his life. After leaving football, he spent a little more time studying and working to make his grades more presentable to a couple out-of-state colleges that he was interested in. He took the SAT and was beginning to hope that senior year may have been a blessing in disguise.

He applied to those less prestigious schools that he thought he could get accepted into, and just like every other high school senior, waited and waited and waited.

But this particular morning, David was no longer waiting for those acceptance letters, because they didn't come. Instead, David had received two giant _rejected _letters the previous day. Upon opening the small envelope, David felt crushed and helpless. His brother had then laughed at him and called him a fool for ever thinking that a school would want him. So, just like David always did, he turned to violence.

That afternoon, David went down the street to his friend Jamie's and asked a few of his buddies if they wouldn't mind helping him out with a little project. Those guys were in the same boat as him: slumming around with nothing to live for. He requested that they accompany him to school the next day and make a statement about the "fucking ridiculous Lima 'Its' who got everything they ever wanted, while he was fed the shittiest life imaginable."

So, this morning David got into his white van that was parked outside his apartment and found that his three other buddies were excitedly waiting in the back. He turned around in his seat to face his accomplices and eyed them carefully.

"You know the plan. Don't mess anything the fuck up! Got it you bastards?" he practically screamed at them.

The others just nodded and remained silent. David turned around to put his key into the ignition and start the van. A wild grin appeared on his face as he reached to his side near his pocket. There, nestled under his belt and weighing him down like a thousand-ton block of iron was his brother's revolver.


	2. Chapter 2

_**So, this story is going to take place over a period of one day, and each chapter will cover fifteen minutes of that day. We've still got a couple of chapters before the real story starts to unfold, but I'm taking my time with character development and setting this story up just right. I want to do this tastefully because I know how serious this subject is. I should update every other day or two unless I'm busy because this story has been running amok in my brain. Anyways, hope you enjoy. Any mistakes are mine, and I apologize ahead of time.**_

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><p><em>7:15 AM<em>

As Santana drove down the street, passing the other larger houses in her neighborhood, she turned on the car radio and shuffled through the local stations. When she found one of her favorite songs, she turned up the volume and relaxed into her seat, bobbing her head up and down and quietly singing along.

When the Latina's BMW had finally met the crossroads between wealthy and slimy Lima, she instinctively took in a deep breath. Whenever she reached the intersection separating the two sides, she felt a feeling of filth crawl over and under her skin.

In suburban Lima, there were three separate districts that were lined up against each other. Santana lived in the far west region with the other wealthy families and most of Santana's friends. The middle-class citizens, which were the majority in Lima, lived in the far east side; this was also where Brittany lived and their high school rested. But, nestled right in the middle of the two sides, and by far the largest of all three districts, was the slummiest and run-down part of Lima. It stretched for a few miles across and held the majority of the blue-collar jobs in the town. The old train station resided here, as well as the abandoned glass factory and warehouse. There were blocks of automobile service stations and dirty bars and parlors. Small shops that sold cheap clothes and furniture were hidden down back alleyways, closed off from the majority of the public.

At the center of middle Lima, was a river that ran south, dividing the town exactly in half. The old Harding Bridge that had been built in the late 1890s was still standing, acting as a stitch that held the other half of Lima to the rest. Santana turned to look out the window as she reached the bridge, catching sight of a few kayakers who were paddling through the tall waters of the river. Because it was late March, the snow had almost melted completely, and was filling up the banks of the waterway.

Upon crossing the bridge, Santana noticed the red light ahead; this stoplight was one of the only ones in Lima. She changed lanes, pulling ahead of a black minivan on her left and stopping at the crosswalk. Out of habit, she turned to look at the vehicle stopped next to her. She recognized the driver and car immediately; it was an old white van that belonged to David Karofsky, McKinley's biggest fuck-up.

After David caught sight of the Latina to his right, he waved and smiled, deviously. Santana simply sighed and rolled her eyes, annoyed. She hated interacting with the lesser citizens of Lima; she felt especially dirty when she was within speaking distance of one of them. And David Karafsky was the worst of them all.

As soon as the light turned green, she put her foot on the gas and was speeding away, trying to get out of middle Lima as quickly as possible.

Santana continued down the main road, driving the last mile before she would leave the "slums". She passed the brand new Target store, which signified her entrance into the safety of the other side.

Santana continued on the street until she met the brick sign that read "George's Landing," and turned left into another suburban neighborhood. These houses were smaller and looked very similar. Their different colors were the only way to make distinctions between the homes of the middle-class.

The yellow one was first, then the green, blue, and white. Until, finally, Santana reached her destination and smiled. Brittany Pierce's house was a light beige color with a bright red front door. The front yard was simple, with one large oak tree to the far left that had a small swing beneath its branches. There were a few shrubs that outlined the walkway to the front entrance of the house. The grass was still brown from the winter, but was showing signs of returning to its true color. Santana had always wondered why a house that was so plain and ordinary could evoke such strong emotions for her. Though Santana knew she lived on the other side of town and loved the house that she grew up in, for some reason the Pierces' abode felt like a second home. Santana knew that comfort had something to do with her beautiful blonde-haired best friend.

Santana pulled into the driveway, right behind a green Ford Explorer. Just as Santana was turning off the engine and exiting her car to approach the front of the house, she noticed Mrs. Pierce open the glass door and walk down the steps, coming towards the Latina.

When Santana was standing in front of the middle-aged woman who looked strikingly similar to Brittany, she grinned.

"Good morning, Mrs. Pierce," Santana greeted.

Mrs. Pierce brought her hand to Santana's shoulder and ran her thumb in circles. One thing that Santana knew Brittany had gotten from her mother was her need for physical contact. The Latina seemed to think that they received some sort of comfort from a simple touch.

"Hi, Santana," she smiled at the brunette, warmly. "Brittany says she's not feeling well this morning and doesn't want to go to school. She told me to tell you to go ahead, anyways."

Santana shifted her stance awkwardly as her bright, cheery attitude fell. She let Mrs. Pierce's words sink in for a few seconds and she frowned, wondering why Brittany was lying to her mother. Santana had seen the blonde at midnight the night before, and she was definitely _not _sick then.

"Do you mind if I go and talk to her for a few minutes?" Santana asked Brittany's mother, hoping that she would allow her to visit with the blonde.

Santana could see the hesitation within Mrs. Pierce's eyes, but waited for a response, calmly.

"Sure, I don't see why not. As long as your not late for school, dear," she said, patting Santana's shoulder.

Santana's face jolted up into a brilliant smile and she quickly wrapped her arms around the woman standing in front of her.

"Thanks, Mrs. P," she said before she practically ran into the house.

Brittany was lying on her bed, over the covers, with her eyes fixed on the ceiling. She was trying to find pictures within the rough face of the popcorn wall above her head. She had picked out a small patch that looked like a butterfly with a large horn. She had thought she had seen a unicorn once, but she could never find it again.

As she closed her left eye and tried focusing harder on the little bumps in the ceiling, she heard her bedroom door open. She didn't bother to sit up or turn her attention because she just assumed it was her mother, trying to convince her to get up and go to school again.

"Brittany Susan Pierce," she heard a velvety voice that did not belong to her mother, and jolted up, immediately.

"Get the hell out of bed. You're going to school," Santana demanded as she walked towards the large queen bed in the center of the tiny bedroom. She reached for Brittany's hand and pulled the blonde out of her sitting position so that they were standing face to face.

Brittany's face fell right away, and that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. After she had woken up this morning, she had felt a strange pain inside her that she couldn't describe. It was the strongest feeling of anxiety she had ever felt in her life, and for some reason, just the thought of going to school on this particular day had her reeling.

"I don't feel well, Santana," Brittany explained, whining. She fell back on her bed and sat upright with her legs dangling over the edge.

Santana focused on the girl in front of her. Brittany was wearing her favorite Superman pajamas that always made Santana extra happy. Her hair was down, falling gently at her shoulders, and her arms were crossed across her chest. Though the blonde still looked just as beautiful with a long, lean body and flowing, long blond hair, Santana sensed an odd countenance resonating from her best friend.

She fell to the ground, kneeling before the sad beauty in front of her. "What's wrong, Britt?" Santana asked as she placed her hands on the blonde's knees. She looked up at the girl with a clear worried expression painted over her face.

Brittany didn't know how to describe the feeling to Santana, so she just stared back at the girl who she loved more than anything else in the world.

"Come on, B. Tell me what's wrong," Santana begged, starting to worry that it had something to do with the two of them and their unclear "relationship status".

Brittany sighed heavily and closed her eyes tightly. "My stomach hurts," she answered, finally.

When she opened her eyes, she was looking into the eyes of a clearly concerned Latina. Brittany swallowed hard.

Santana then reached to put her palm to the blonde's forehead, checking to see if the girl was unusually warm. Brittany's skin ended up being colder than Santana's hand, so Santana gave Brittany a questioning expression. "You're not running a fever, B," she commented, lovingly.

"I never said I was sick, I just said that I wasn't feeling well," Brittany clarified. She didn't think she was sick, that's only what she had told her mother to convince her to let her stay home. She wasn't sure of the source of her apprehensive feelings, but she didn't have that bodily aching that she always got when she was truly sick.

"Then why are not coming to school?" Santana pressed further. She was speaking to Brittany in a comforting and loving manner, hoping to ease the obvious tension within the blonde. Brittany simply sighed again.

"It's like…this weird feeling," she started, turning her eyes away from the Latina and to her dresser mirror on the other side of the room. "I can't describe it, but it makes my tummy feel strange," she finished, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Santana didn't hesitate long, and before she knew it, her arms were wrapped around the weak girl sitting in front of her. Brittany relaxed into the comforting embrace and turned her head to rest in the crook of the Latina's neck. She could smell the cinnamon and lavender emanating from the skin of Santana and she closed her eyes, smiling at the wonderful scent.

After a few long seconds, Santana pulled back, but kept her hands at the blonde's shoulders. "There's nothing to worry about, Britt. I promise that everything will be just fine," she said, tapping her pointer finger on the nose of the blonde.

Brittany stared back at Santana, incredulously. She still found it hard to believe that the Latina could act so kind and loving around Brittany, yet so frigid and snarky when surrounded by their peers. She thought she knew the reason behind Santana's bipolar feelings, but she could never be sure.

The blonde had loved Santana since the first time they had laid eyes on each other in eighth grade. Brittany had just moved to Lima after her dad had been relocated for his job. She had been so scared that no one would be nice to her and make her feel welcome. She knew about small towns like Lima, where everyone already had their cliques and social groups. Walking down the halls of a new middle school like a lost puppy had always been her worst nightmare.

No one said anything unwelcoming to her, and no one stared at her like she was an alien from another planet, and that was nice. But to Brittany's dismay, not one person had even bothered to acknowledge her presence.

She had English first block with Ms. Bush and had been nervously standing in front of the classroom, while her teacher introduced her to the class. For the most part, all the kids were either ignoring what their teacher was saying and delving into conversations with their friends, or were nodding off into a morning slumber.

Ms. Bush had pointed to the back of the classroom to an empty chair, seated right next to a tiny brunette who was hidden behind the head of a tall boy. After Brittany approached her new seat and caught sight of the girl she was about to sit next to, the blonde's breath hitched suddenly.

She stood awkwardly as she took in the beautiful, large brown eyes that were staring back her with the same intensity she knew she was displaying. The Latina had been the prettiest girl that Brittany had ever seen. When she realized that she had just stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the brunette, she immediately popped out of her haze to take her seat.

The class went by excruciatingly slowly for the blonde because she felt the tension that was present between her and the gorgeous girl sitting to her left, constantly suffocating her until she was beginning to struggle with her breathing. She hadn't bothered to look back over to meet those deep brown eyes over the course of the class, but she knew that her table buddy was constantly shooting glances at her side. She could feel the strength of the glare coming from the Latina.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the period, she got up from her chair and leaned over to grab her book bag that was resting on the ground. When she stood back up, she was face to face with the mysterious, breath-taking brunette.

"I'm Santana," the Latina said, and Brittany could feel the breath of the brunette on her lips, sending a shiver up her spine.

Then, out of the blue, and startling the blonde more than the introduction, Santana smiled a perfect, glimmering smile that stunned Brittany in her place.

Though Santana didn't bother to say anything to the blonde the rest of the day, as well as the rest of the year, Brittany admired her secret crush from afar. Every once in a while she would feel the same stare on her that she had felt that first day. Though by the time Brittany always found the Latina in the crowd of people, Santana was looking somewhere else, Brittany seemed to think that Santana was watching her too.

For two years, Brittany continued to marvel the Latina. She noticed that Santana could be really cruel to people who were not as popular as her, but loyal and kind to her close friends. Brittany learned about Santana's family's wealth and status in the town. She watched as Santana turned from a small, petite girl into a hot and _very _attractive young woman.

Then, sophomore year, Brittany finally found enough courage to talk to Santana. Though their conversation was brief, the Latina had not said one mean thing to her. Brittany knew that this was her pass and the start of her acceptance.

They slowly grew from acquaintances sophomore year, to friends at the beginning of junior year, after Brittany joined the Cheerios with Santana. By the end of junior year, anyone at McKinley would have agreed that they were official _best _friends. Anywhere Santana went, Brittany followed. And as the two of them became closer, Brittany fell more and more in love with the Latina every day. It wasn't until the end of summer before their senior year that Brittany decided to take a risk and act on her feelings. To her wonderfully marvelous surprise, Santana hadn't pushed the blonde away.

For a whole semester, they fell under the category: friends with benefits. They would start by making out, which would lead to intimate and heated touching, and then to intense pleasure. Brittany had been sure that her wildest dreams had come true because she was having Santana in a way that she was sure no one else was or ever would.

And then came spring, and Brittany was slowly learning that she wanted more with Santana; she wanted everything. The sex was just as amazing and their friendship was stronger than ever, but Brittany still didn't know how Santana _truly_ felt about her. Brittany knew that she was madly in love with the brunette, but she always felt this nagging feeling that Santana's feelings were not as strong.

As Brittany stared down at the brown eyes that she knew so well, the blonde found her way out of the memories of their past. She noticed the girl's worried eyes and wrinkled forehead. She could clearly see the adoration expressed on the Latina's face and smiled, trustingly.

"I _promise_, Britt. Everything will be just fine," Santana repeated.

Though Brittany had relaxed a little with the support from the brunette, she could still feel the uneasiness that rested within her. But, Brittany trusted Santana with her life, so she simply nodded her head and got up from her bed to change into her cheerleading uniform.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sorry for the wait, guys. We're almost to the good part; just hang in there. I apologize for any mistakes, and I hope you enjoy.**_

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><p><em>7:30 AM<em>

Santana watched curiously as Brittany removed her shirt and pajama pants, leaving her only clad in white lace underwear. The Latina took in a deep breath at the sight of her beautifully bare best friend and turned her eyes away, fighting the urge to run across the room and kiss Brittany into oblivion.

Once Brittany had put her cheerleading uniform on, she picked up a hair tie from her dresser top and turned around to face Santana.

"Can you?" she asked, as she held out the elastic band. Santana simply nodded and smiled, having turned her head back to face Brittany at the sound of her voice.

Santana moved towards the blonde and pushed the girl into the seat right in front of the mirror. She reached for the hair tie, feeling her skin brush against Brittany's and shivering slightly at the touch.

She then proceeded to run her fingers through the soft blond curls and rub the girl's head gently. Brittany immediately relaxed into the touch and sighed loudly.

In the back of Brittany's mind, she was reminded of something that she had wanted to bring up but hadn't been able to, due to the uneasy and sickening feelings that had overcome her. She looked up through her eyelashes and focused her attention on the brown orbs that were busy concentrating on the task at hand. Brittany smiled as she took in the beautiful and breath-taking girl behind her. She couldn't help but squirm as a warm, buttery feeling rushed through her, covering up the less-obvious pain.

"Santana?" she asked, keeping her voice as perfectly sweet as she could.

"Hmm?" Santana responded, not moving her eyes from the blonde's hair as she continued to work on the curly mess.

"I wanted to ask you something…" she started. Brittany wanted to gauge the Latina's attention and mood. She thought that Santana looked relaxed and happy enough to lessen the disappointment that Brittany knew would surely accompany the topic she was about to delve into.

Santana lifted her eyes to the blonde's in the mirror, hesitantly. The Latina could recognize the tone in Brittany's voice; it was one that always meant she was about to bring up their _private_ relationship.

"I wanted to ask you about…last night," she finally said, smiling at the memory.

Santana's cheeks flushed red, and she stopped moving her hands so she could stare at Brittany's face. After a few seconds had passed, Santana cleared her throat and began working on the blonde's hair again.

"What about last night?" Santana questioned nonchalantly, although she was pretty sure she knew what Brittany was going to respond and was actually kind of nervous.

"Santana?" Brittany half whined. She could see the Latina avoiding the seriousness of the conversation she was trying to start.

"It was _fun_," Santana looked at her with sincere and caring eyes, which contrasted her words. "We always have_ fun_," she finished, smiling and raising her eyebrows.

Brittany hated when Santana whisked everything away like it was no big deal that they had sex almost every day. She hated when Santana pretended like their relationship wasn't as serious as Brittany knew it was. She hated that, while Santana lied about her feelings for Brittany, the blonde was constantly sharing affectionate words and asking for more.

"It's _more _than just fun," Brittany said, a little angry. She watched as Santana's eyes grew wider and then closed as she was contemplating the blonde's true statement.

Brittany took a deep breath before she said the words that she knew would cause Santana to close off from her. But, she wanted to be honest, and she was ready for the consequences.

"San…" she waited again as the Latina opened her eyes to look wonderingly at Brittany. "I love you," she finished, wincing at the change in Santana's expression.

Before Santana could respond with some shitty excuse or horrible reason for why they couldn't be "like that," Brittany continued.

"And don't lie to me like you did last night; I'm not stupid, Santana," she explained, bitterly. That was the one thing that pissed Brittany off most about Santana. She hated that the Latina thought the blonde was gullible enough to be tricked into believing just about anything. Brittany knew that she wasn't the brightest individual, but she certainly wasn't dumb.

Brittany looked up at the brown eyes that were piercing her through the reflection. She didn't like having this conversation through a mirror, so she turned around now that her hair was tied into a tight ponytail on the top of her head. When she was facing the brunette, she could see Santana frozen with fear. Brittany had known that those words would have an adverse affect, so she was patiently waiting for the brunette to come around.

When Santana finally spoke, she was tripping over her words and stuttering like a lunatic.

"I…t…think we…ssshould get t…to school now," she managed, a bit incoherent.

Santana turned around quickly, facing away from the blonde so she could breathe and collect her thoughts.

This had always been her biggest fear: that Brittany would admit her feelings, which Santana already knew existed but tried to ignore, and things would change between them. As much as Santana cared about Brittany, she wouldn't let this happen. She knew the consequences of a relationship like that coming out in Lima. She would be disowned and thrown off the top of the hierarchy spot that she had worked so hard to attain. As much as she could feel the pain of the lie in her head, she still told herself that Brittany wasn't worth it.

She hadn't realized that the blonde had gotten up from the stool to stand behind her, until she felt the warm hand scorching through her uniform top.

"You don't get to do that," Brittany stated, angrily. Santana didn't have to see Brittany's face to know that her best friend was mad. She could hear the resentment in her words.

"Do what?" Santana asked, knowingly. Her voice was shaking.

"Pretend like you didn't hear what I said."

Santana turned back around to face the blonde and immediately was surprised to see the concern and sincerity in her eyes.

"I just told you that I love you, Santana, and you don't get to ignore me this time," she stated, firmly. Brittany was sick and tired of Santana's unwillingness to deal with the truth.

"I…" Santana began, but she didn't know what to say.

Brittany leaned forward to place a light kiss to the Latina's lips. It was soft and quick, but Santana could feel her whole body buzzing. Brittany pulled back just as quickly as she had leaned forward, and was smiling at Santana, hopingly.

"I know you have feelings for me, Santana. Just say it." Brittany's eyes grew wide, and Santana could feel the intensity pooling within the crystal blue orbs. She could feel herself getting lost in the trance.

But, Santana wasn't week; at least, that's what she told herself. And agreeing with Brittany was just about the weakest thing that Santana thought she could do. She had built up a wall for a reason and she wasn't about to smash it down so easily, just so she could give Brittany the satisfaction of being right. She would hate herself for giving in. She would hate herself for admitting that Brittany was right. She would fight against it for as long as she could.

The Latina was shaking her head back and forth, while her eyes were still focused on the blue ones in front of her. She felt Brittany move forward again, this time, standing so close that they could feel the other pressed up against them. The Latina closed her eyes.

"It's not hard to say, Santana," Brittany began, grinning. She was going to do whatever it took to get Santana to agree, even if that meant teasing.

She moved her face forward, so that her mouth was pressed against the brunette's cheek. She planted another soft kiss there and began moving her lips up Santana's jaw, leaving hot kisses across the skin, until she was at her ear. Brittany hesitated.

"I love you," the blonde whispered, and smiled, before moving her lips back down her face. She kept planting delicate kisses until her lips were at the corner of the Latina's mouth. She didn't move from the spot and just waited for the brunette's reaction.

Santana was frozen in place, breathing heavily at the blonde's ministrations. Her face felt hot and she could barely see out of her blurry eyes. It felt like torture.

Before she could stop herself, the Latina was moving her head, so that the blonde's lips were right on top of hers. Before she could stop herself, she was moving her tongue over Brittany's bottom lip and tasting the sweetest skin. Santana could feel her knees going week.

Brittany wasn't giving in, though. Santana always ended up getting what she wanted, and the blonde wasn't willing to throw in her towel this time. So, she took a step back and watched as Santana's eyes popped open immediately, and she shot Brittany a questioning and upset look.

"No," was all Brittany said, and Santana shivered at the harshness.

Brittany stared at the brunette and studied her with expert eyes. She could see that Santana wasn't going to say what she was desperately begging for. She could feel her expression fall into a hurt scowl.

Though Brittany wasn't giving up, she decided to stop pressing the Latina for the time being. She sighed deeply and looked to Santana's feet. She would try later.

"Let's go," Brittany said, defeated, as she turned away from the stunned Latina to walk out of her bedroom.

As soon as Brittany was away from the close proximately of Santana, she felt that same anxiety boil over again. She groaned out loud and silently hoped that Santana had been right when she had promised that everything was going to be okay.

* * *

><p>Their drive to school was extremely silent. Santana hadn't even bothered to turn on the radio. Neither of the girls spoke a single word to the other, in fear that they would say something that they would regret.<p>

Brittany rested her head against the window, and watched the landscapes and houses rush past them. Every few seconds, she would release a heavy sigh and begin playing with her hands.

Santana focused on the road, turning her eyes over to look at her best friend every minute or so.

When they finally reached the school, there was a long line of cars at the entrance, as always. They could recognize a few of their friends through their car windows, and they smiled at them as they passed.

Santana pulled into the student parking lot, and continued until she found her parking space under a tall tree at the top of the hill.

She put the car into park and turned off the ignition. She sat still for a few minutes, waiting to see if Brittany was going to say something. When the blonde hadn't even turned back to face the Latina, Santana finally spoke, breaking the uneasy silence.

"I'm sorry." Santana knew she didn't have to clarify what she was apologizing for. She knew Brittany understood.

The blonde finally turned to face Santana and smiled. "You'll see," was all she said. She reached for the door handle and pulled it, opening the car door. She got out and stretched, hoping to alleviate some of her inner anguish, and Santana stayed still, watching intensly.

* * *

><p>On the other end of the parking lot, hidden in between the side of the school and a large dumpster, four teenage boys were talking heatedly.<p>

The oldest was very tall and skinny and was wearing a pair of brown cargo pants and a tight black vest, just like the others. He had sharp red hair, glasses, and a very scared face from horrible acne. He was assembling a batch of weapons as the three others argued.

The second one was much shorter and darker. He was rather quiet, only cutting in to say a few words every few minutes.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he finally asked, and the other boys turned towards him quickly and silently.

The third, chubbier boy was the one who responded, sensing the fury in driver's expression.

"Shut up, Caleb. Of course we want to do this," he answered, carefully replacing 'he' with 'we'.

"I wasn't asking you, Jamie, you idiot," Caleb grunted angrily and turned to face the driver.

"David?" he asked, softly.

David took the moment to look over his henchmen who were watching him, waiting for his response. He could see Jamie's eagerness, which he was sure reflected his stature as well. But, he could spot the uncertainty plastered across Caleb's face and he felt the malice consume him. He turned to face the third, red-headed boy, and smiled.

"Is everything ready, Joe?" he asked.

The red-haired boy simply nodded and adjusted the large glasses on his face.

David turned back to face his one nervous friend and grabbed the boy's shoulder, squeezing tightly.

"Are you in, or not?" he practically yelled.

Caleb nodded his head immediately, knowing it was the only way to get David to release the tight grip on his arm. "Okay, okay," he agreed, his voice shaking.

David let go of Caleb's arm and turned to face the red-headed boy again. "Time?" he asked.

Joe looked down to his watch and grinned. "It's 7:44," he answered.

David took a deep breath in and relaxed slightly. "Okay," he said, meeting his eyes with his partners again. "We wait," he finished, his body shivering with anticipation.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Here's the next chapter, guys, and sorry it's been a while. This one's pretty short, but after this chapter, they should get longer. We're pretty much to the main story now, but I'm not so sure that's a good thing at this point...**_

_**Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to leave a review, and I'm sorry for any mistakes. **_

* * *

><p><em>7:45 AM<em>

McKinley High School was fairly small, consisting of about four-hundred students and twenty teachers and staff members. The campus, though, was large and settled on a flat, empty piece of land. The only trees were ones that had been planted by the student body in years past in honor of some graduating class or some really old PTA member who had passed away.

The school was north facing, with the main street running parallel, in front of the campus. On one east side of the school was the border line separating Lima from the nearest, smaller neighboring town. On the west side were all the athletic fields, lined up consecutively: first the football field and track, then the soccer field, and lastly the baseball field.

McKinley was a one-story brick building that stood out from the vinyl covered houses surrounding the school. At the front, was a giant open window that let in light during the winter months, but very little during the spring. There were a few uncomfortable wooden benches spread out across the mulch covered grounds facing towards two tall flag poles. The Ohio state flag and the United States flag hung high in the sky; they were motionless on this particular morning due to the still air.

Also, settled on the sides of the building, were large wooden plant beds that stretched for about ten feet. The administrative staff and student body had tried to plant all kinds of flowers in them for years, but the chilly falls always seemed to freeze over any still-existing buds from summer. Winter would tear through Lima and kill anything green, prohibiting any chance of those remaining blossoms from returning at the start of spring to bloom. It was sad, in a way, because the flower beds would usually be so beautiful right before they were destroyed by Mother Nature's icy breath. But, the principal had given up the previous year and had left them bare for this particular spring.

Principal Figgins had worked as head of McKinley high school for ten years. The teachers respected him; the students listened to him; the parents adored him. He was a fairly nice man and thought pretty highly of himself. His family was one of the wealthier ones in Lima and, he took great pride in his status. Considering he was Indian and had moved here with his wife and two daughters from out-of-state to take up a position at the local high school in Lima on a whim, most of the citizens here would agree that he was also quite lucky. The Figgins family was one of a kind in Lima.

This morning, Figgins stood outside the front doors of the school, facing the main road. He had just finished instructing two small freshmen in the procedure of raising the flags, like he did every morning at 7:45. He was sipping casually from his large coffee mug and staring up at the oddly colored sky. Occasionally, a teacher or student would pass by him, hurrying to get to their first period class before the first bell rang.

Usually Figgins would say something to the teachers for being so far behind, but it was a Friday, and he was in an oddly chipper mood.

As he looked to his watch, he began counting down the seconds until the first bell would ring, signaling the students to get to their classrooms. _Five. Four. Three. Two. One._

_BEEP_

Figgins adjusted his tie and jacket before leaning forward and back on his feet. He then proceeded to fiddle with the itchy wig he wore on top of his very bald head. Once he had decided he was decent enough to proceed within the school, he turned on his heels and reached for the cold handle on the glass door separating him from the busy and noisy teenagers rushing around inside.

Just like he always did, Figgins stood at the entrance to the school and watched his students scurry to their first block classes.

There were two long hallways to his left and right, branching off from the open mall area in front of him. Directly in front of Figgins, was a large open room that held the school's office and teacher's lounge. He would be walking forward to make his way to his own desk in a few minutes, but for now, he was too busy watching and inwardly laughing at the wild student body.

McKinley High was in the shape of a square. The hallways ran along the sides of the square, with the classrooms splitting off on both sides every fifty feet or so. When one hall would end, a perpendicular lane would diverge away. Eventually, if students kept walking, they would find themselves passing a cafeteria, a library, and then realize that they were back to their original spot at the front of the school.

It was a simple layout and relatively inexpensive, which pleased the tax-paying citizens greatly. The students found it easy to navigate and the teachers could monitor the activities better, as well. Because of this, the students felt safer and the parents felt relieved. They had all heard horror stories about knives and guns and drugs being brought to school. For most parents, McKinley was a blessing because in the past fifty years, not one violent or troublesome event had occurred.

And that was what made today so much worse: because no one, not one single person, was expecting the terror that lay ahead. Only a tall blonde girl with a stomach ache who had just entered her English Literature class had the slightest inclination that something was wrong.

* * *

><p>Santana followed Brittany to the back of the large classroom. They both took their seats at the table in the back of the room, and proceeded to watch as the rest of their classmates filed in.<p>

"Hey girls," a large black girl greeted the two of them before taking her seat at the table in front of them.

"Hi Mercedes," Brittany acknowledged.

Santana noticed the unusual tone in the blonde's voice, but chose to ignore it. Mercedes raised her eyebrows and gave Brittany a quizzical stare. The blonde just slumped in her seat and brought her arms to her stomach to hold herself. She was hoping that it would alleviate some of the pain she was still feeling.

"What's wrong, Britt?" Mercedes asked, as another girl joined her at her table.

Brittany didn't even bother to look up. She just continued to squeeze her belly and turn her eyes down to the table beneath her.

Santana watched the uncharacteristic motions of the girl next to her and felt some sort of responsibility for her state. When she looked up, she not only met Mercedes' eyes, but she also locked eyes with an Asian girl who looked just as interested.

"She's not feeling well," Santana explained, and both Mercedes and the Asian girl nodded and turned back to the front of the classroom.

After Santana was certain that the two girls in front of them were deep in some gossipy conversation and couldn't overhear what Santana was hoping to say, she turned back to look at the somber blonde.

"Are you feeling worse now, B?" she asked, concerned.

Brittany didn't bother to meet the chocolate eyes that she could feel piercing her; she just nodded.

For some reason, as soon as the blonde had entered the school, the feeling that she had thought was slowly beginning to disappear was now burning through her insides. It felt like her stomach and intestines were being knotted and tangled into a giant painful mess.

Without any hesitation, Santana reached for the girl's hand, pulled in away from her torso and brought it under the table. She laced her fingers in the blonde's and watched Brittany's expression as she gave a gentle squeeze.

Brittany immediately looked up at the brunette and gave her a warm smile. It wasn't forced or strangled, and Santana took that as good news. It meant that Brittany could be distracted.

For the next few minutes, Santana and Brittany sat looking forward, watching their fellow classmates arrive before the late bell rang at 7:55. Santana had taken on the job of distracting Brittany with ease. She was writing random words on the back on Brittany's hand with her fingers, and the blonde was guessing what she was drawing. She had started off with Disney characters, but Brittany had just ended up guessing the right character after Santana had drawn the first letter. So, Santana had moved on to singers and songs, which had ended up being more challenging for the blonde. But, in the end, it had been more successful at diverting the blonde's attention away from her stomach ache.

They watched as Rachel, the annoying, small Jewish girl took her seat at the front of the classroom next to a well-dressed boy named Kurt, who was super gay. They talked loudly while the girl would send occasional longing looks across the room to Finn Hudson, the school's quarterback.

Sitting next to Finn, was Quinn Fabray, another cheerleader that Santana and Brittany were quite close friends with. Quinn and Finn had been dating for three years, but it was no secret that Finn had eyes for a certain loud-mouthed midget who had convinced him to join the Glee club their sophomore year. So, while Quinn rambled on about college and cheerleading, Finn was sending occasional side-glances towards Rachel as well.

There were another ten students seated around tables within the classroom. Santana knew the names of all of them, but most of the time she pretended like she didn't. Santana wanted to separate herself from the lower-class students and stand out. She thought she was so much better than all of them, anyways.

"Ummm…Madonna?" Brittany guessed.

Santana raised her eyebrows and chuckled. "Britt, how did you get 'Madonna' out of 'Whitney Houston'?" she asked.

The blonde simply shrugged her shoulders and started concentrating again as Santana's slender fingers began tracing letters over her hand once more.

Though Brittany liked playing the game, she enjoyed feeling Santana's touch even more. It was soft and comforting and reminded her of all the times that the Latina had run her fingertips along her long, bare body. Brittany shivered at the memory.

"Lady Gaga?"

Santana nodded her head and continued.

Brittany, who had been trying really hard to concentrate on Santana's hand, was now watching as a larger boy squeezed his way into the classroom before the bell rang.

The blonde watched him, curiously, because she noticed a deceitful expression across his face; Brittany was usually good at reading people. As she eyed him carefully she was beginning to feel a swell of nausea wash over her again, only this time it was ten times worse.

David Karofsky walked forward and took his seat at the back of the classroom, right next to Brittany.

The blonde noticed that he was wearing a rather baggy hoodie and vest, along with cargo pants. She raised an eyebrow because, though David didn't usually dress up, he never looked like _this_. As he sat down at his seat, Brittany turned to face him and stared.

_BEEP_

The classroom door shut loudly, and the class turned their attention to their teacher at the front of the room.

"Good morning, everyone," she said, energetically. Most of the students just rolled their eyes.

Santana reached down to her bag and pulled out her binder. Her other hand was still grasping Brittany's; she hadn't realized that the blonde's grip had tightened significantly over the last minute.

As Santana sat back up in her chair, three things happened simultaneously.

First, Santana felt Brittany's hand pull away from her own. Second, she heard a deafening _BAM _that ricocheted off the brick walls and made her jump out of her seat.

And lastly, while she was falling to the ground and reaching for Brittany, Santana watched as their teacher's face contorted in intense pain and disbelief, before she fell to the ground with a thud.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Here's the next chapter, I hope you like it. From here on out, it's pretty intense, so I'm warning you. Characters WILL die, but it's all pertinent to the story. Leave a review so I know what you think, and I apologize for any mistakes. **_

* * *

><p><em>8:00 AM<em>

Everything was happening in slow motion.

It was like one of those old movies in which a really climactic moment, one that the audience had waited for an entire hour and a half to watch, was slowed down a quarter the speed of the rest of the film and seemed to drag out amazingly slowly.

Except this time it wasn't amazing at all, it was purely terrifying. And as each tiny moment of time elapsed, small bits of extreme fear were beginning to appear on the students' faces, along with the realization of what was actually occurring.

The noise was the worst because it shook the entire room, barreling through the silent vacuum that the classroom seemed to be suspended within. It was the only thing that rang through the ears of the innocent teenagers, echoing around their minds and temporarily deafening them from their internal screams and heavy breaths.

Heavy breaths that were both suffocating them and saving them at the same time. Heavy breaths that had led to hyperventilating and ignored panic attacks. Heavy breaths that had caused the blonde girl, who was lying on the ground next to the source of the horrific sound, to pass out.

Time meant nothing because it was moving so terrifically slowly.

* * *

><p><em>Brittany felt the warmth of the summer sun against her skin and she smiled. After all, it was her favorite time of year. And, even though her eyes were shut tightly, she could still tell where she was. She had been here so many times before as a child. <em>

"_Brittany, come on," she heard the whine of her companion standing above her. _

_It was a sweet, soft voice that she couldn't quite recognize. It reminded her of someone else's, but she couldn't figure out whose. _

_Before she opened her eyes, she felt a small hand pull at her arm. _

"_Come oooon, I want to show you something," the child begged. Brittany opened her eyes slowly, carefully adjusting to the bright rays shining down on her body._

_A head was blocking the sun from her eyes. She couldn't make out the face because it was too dark in the shadow, but she could see the ends of blond hair flying in the breeze._

_She sat up from the soft grass that her head had been lying upon, and took a moment to watch the small girl standing next to her. _

_She was brilliantly gorgeous—the prettiest child Brittany had ever seen. Her eyes were bright blue; a blue that Brittany was sure reflected a perfectly clear, azure ocean. Her hair was so blond that it looked almost white, and fell upon her shoulders in soft, beautiful curls. She was laughing loudly and smiling at Brittany with so much love and innocence that it took her breath away. _

_The small girl twirled in her place; the flowing white dress moving in circles around her. Her skin looked pale, but so warm. Brittany felt a powerful urge to reach out and touch the child. So, she did._

"_What are you doing, Brittany?" The small girl stopped to stare up at the woman whose hand was placed upon her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned her head into the palm and smiled._

"_You're so funny, Brittany," she said after a moment. Her eyes were still closed and Brittany watched her fervently. The way the child said her name was so breathtaking. It was so familiar._

"_I have to show you something before you leave," the small blonde said as she opened her brilliant eyes. Brittany gasped. _

_Brittany couldn't form any words, so she simply nodded her head. _

_The beautiful, angelic child took her hand and began pulling her across the open field. _

_It was the exact same as Brittany remembered. The last time she had been here was when she was five, but it didn't seem like anything had changed. _

_The clearing was filled with tall, soft grass. There were tall oak trees wrapped around the circular area, as if they were protecting the sacred place from anything and everything that had, and was, hurting her. _

_There were gentle hills that stretched for about a hundred feet in any direction around her. She could see the wildflowers at the edge of the space and remembered the hundreds of times she had picked them and left them for her parents or her sister at the foot of their bedrooms. _

_The house that had once been right behind the edge of the woods was gone, but the blonde didn't notice. The only thing she could focus on was the small body that was pulling her towards what had once been her favorite spot in the whole world. It was a shame because she had forgotten how magnificent this place had been. How magnificent it still was._

_When they approached the small bed of flowers, Brittany smiled brightly. _

_The small girl began spinning around again, twirling in the soft breeze. Her arms were outstretched and she was laughing again. _

"_Aren't they so pretty, Brittany?" she asked, once she had turned back to face the older blonde._

_Brittany nodded again and felt a single tear fall from her left eye. _

_The small girl stepped forwards again. "Why are you crying?" she asked, innocently. _

_Brittany wiped away the tear and laughed. "It's soooo pretty," she agreed. _

_The miniature blonde smiled, showing off her bright white teeth. "I told you," she bragged and then continued to spin in circles in the tall flowers. _

_In that instant, Brittany recognized the girl, and she let out a small sob. It was so beautiful; it was the perfect moment. _

"_Brittany?" the small girl said. _

_Brittany looked up to face her. _

"_I miss you," she admitted._

_Brittany nodded and continued to let out small sobs that couldn't seem to stop emanating from her chest. _

"_I know," she said as she turned to look up at the clear sky. "I miss you too," Brittany admitted, truthfully. _

"_I'll see you again, right?" the small child asked. Brittany could see the sadness in hers eyes and felt another tear fall. _

_In that moment, Brittany wished that she could give the blonde girl anything that she wanted. She would give up everything that had complicated her life to make the child happy again. She would die for her happiness. _

"_Of course," she answered. _

_The tiny girl came running towards her and wrapped her miniature arms and delicate frame around the sobbing blonde. _

"_I love you, Brittany," she said into Brittany's soft torso. "And I don't want you to _ever _be sad," she stated._

"_I know," Brittany responded, moving her arms to cradle the gorgeous girl beneath her. _

_After a few brief seconds, the child stepped back to look at Brittany and frowned instantly. _

"_Goodbye, Brittany," she said as tears began forming in her stunning blue eyes. _

"_Goodbye."_

* * *

><p>"He fucking shot her!" Finn yelled across the room. He was crying, just like almost everyone else.<p>

Kurt, who was sitting closest to the teacher, attempted to crawl to her side.

"Don't you…FUCKING move," Karofsky demanded.

The gun that had been triggered only moments before was still firm in his hand. He moved it so it was directing straight at Kurt.

David was shaking immeasurably. His face was contorted in pain and anguish. His eyes were filled with such ferocity that not one student could look him straight in the eye. His stance was strong and unbreakable. He was in pain, but not because of what he had just done.

"Let her die!" he ordered, screaming loudly at the other whimpering students.

Kurt turned towards their teacher and tears flooded his eyes. He could see the blood pooling around her limp, pale body. At the center of her chest, a bullet hole was visible, and blood was flooding from it, soaking her shirt.

He wanted to do something, anything to help her, but he knew it was probably too late. She was dying and would be stone dead within minutes. He turned up to face the boy whose gun had committed this horrible act of violence.

"Why did you do this, David?" Kurt asked, his voice shaking.

David grinned and looked around the room at all the fearful students. In that moment, he felt like he had more power over these people than he had ever even had over himself. With one simple move, he could get them to do anything that he wanted. He could get them to beg for their lives; he could get them to sacrifice even their supposedly closest friends just to save themselves. That power made him feel stronger than he had ever felt before—stronger than football and bullying ever had. It was the most amazing high in the world.

"Because I felt like it," he answered, coldly and laughed.

As much as he wished that he could go about this on instinct and torture these worthless people until he was satisfied, he knew that there was a precise plan in place that he couldn't forget about. It was a plan that he had contrived so carefully it was almost foolproof. It was a plan that he couldn't back out on.

"Okay," he started, taking a few steps back so that the entire classroom was in his view.

"Here's the deal," he smiled. "I don't need all of you here for this," he pulled out a list from his back pocket that contained five names. "If I don't call your name, you are free to leave. Do whatever the hell you want, I don't care." He paused for a moment when he noticed that Brittany, the girl who had watched him pull out his gun out only moments before, was lying limp on the floor.

He was a little conflicted because the blond was, fortunately for her, not on the list. Yet, she was knocked out cold and pretty damn useless. His plan didn't involve middle-class girls who had only ever been nice to him.

He hesitated before clearing his throat and looking back up at his classmates. He unfolded the crumpled up sheet of paper and began reading the names.

"Quinn Fabray" The other blond at the front of the room winced at her name being called and fell into the tight grasp of her boyfriend next to her.

"Rachel Berry," he continued. The small brunette let out a whimper.

"Finn Hudson"

"Kurt Hummel," the boy at the front of the classroom shook his head, angrily.

"And, last but certainly not least, Santana _Fucking_ Lopez," he sneered her name. It felt disgusting on his tongue.

The Latina who was on the floor near his feet wasn't crying or even looking up at David. Instead, her eyes were focused on the passed-out blonde lying next to her.

Santana couldn't look away when the next few words escaped her lips. "What about Brittany?"

David cleared his throat again. "If you can wake her up, she can leave with the rest. If not, she's stuck here with me," he answered. Talking quickly.

Santana was still staring at Brittany with sad, hopeful eyes. She reached for the girl.

"Brittany?" she began shaking her. "Brittany?" she asked, louder this time. The blonde wasn't moving.

"BRITTANY!" she yelled, as she began pounding her fists into the back on the girl, but no matter what she did, the blonde wouldn't move.

Santana, at that moment, broke out into a pathetic sob. She was crying profusely by the time David said anything else.

"Okay, the rest of you may leave. If you are the last person, you will lock the door behind you, or I shoot someone," he said.

The dozen or so students whose names hadn't been called got to their feet, hesitantly. They refused to turn their backs to David, afraid that he was going to go back on his word.

The six other students watched as their classmates filed out of the room. Mercedes was the last to leave, and she gave a sincerely apologetic expression as she turned the knob, locking the door from the outside.

There was a brief moment of silence that settled over the room. It only lasted about five seconds, before they heard the screams coming from the other side of the door. They were screams of panic and fear, and it left an uncomfortable atmosphere within the enclosed space.

In that moment, the blonde began to stir from her sleep. Santana could hear Brittany mumbling her own name into the carpeted floor.

She moved her hands to the girl to comfort her when she awoke.

"Brittany?" Santana said, softly.

The blonde turned to look up at the Latina and smiled. She outstretched her hand to cup the brunette's cheek.

Santana turned to face David; she was going to beg.

"Please, please, pleeeease," she whined towards him. David laughed at the words.

"No," he said, firmly and finally.

Santana let the tears clog her eyes and fog up her eyesight. In her head, all she could think was _Brittany shouldn't be here, Brittany shouldn't be here, Brittany shouldn't be here…_ It was an endless string of the same, repeating words. She would try again.

"David, pleeeease. She…she _can't _be here," she began crying again.

Though David hadn't originally planned to keep the blonde around, there was no way that he was loosing control. Agreeing to let Brittany go would be the first step in crumbling, and he had worked too damn hard to get to this exact moment. To get his revenge.

"NO!" He shouted, and that was the end of it.

"All of you," he yelled, pointing at the few remaining people with his gun. "Get up and move over there," he motioned to the side of the room away from the door.

Quinn, Finn, Rachel, and Kurt all moved quickly. Santana stood up slowly, trying to help Brittany get to her feet.

Once the blonde was standing, Santana took the moment to observe her lost face. She was here, but the Latina could tell in her eyes, that Brittany's mind was somewhere far away.

She reached for the blonde's cheeks and clutched them in her hands.

Brittany's stare turned towards Santana's and she let out a shaky breath.

"Are you okay?" Santana asked, as she brushed away the few fly hairs that had escaped her ponytail.

Brittany nodded and turned away from Santana to join the others. The Latina was right behind her.

David moved to the center of the room; he kept his gun on the students the entire time. They were all standing there, huddled together in fear, and he felt that same surge of power and adrenaline rush through him.

"I'm sure that you can figure out why you're here, and not the others," he spoke with such calmness that Santana couldn't help but shudder.

He began to pace back and forth, still holding his gun, firmly.

"Why are you doing this?" Kurt asked again. He was the only one showing anger towards Karofsky.

"This is not right, this is not _okay_," Kurt continued.

Finn, who was still holding Quinn tightly against himself, opened his mouth to speak as well.

"Come on, Dave. This isn't you," Finn said.

David looked up to meet Finn's eyes and he shook his head. They had been friends once, through football. But now, all he could feel towards his old teammate was hatred. Hatred for what he had that David could never get. Hatred for what they all were.

"Don't pretend like you know me, _Hudson_," he snarled harshly.

A look of confusion formed across Finn's face.

"But don't I?" he pushed. "I've known you for a _long _time, David." He hesitated and looked to his girlfriend, who was holding him closely.

"I never thought you were capable of something like this," he whispered.

David caught what he had mumbled and rolled his eyes. They were all too pathetic to understand where he was coming from. They had no idea what he had been through.

"I don't care," he said.

At that moment, three other shots sounded from rooms around them. They all happened consecutively, with only a second in between each of them. The students in the classroom jolted and jumped at the horridly familiar sounds.

"Ahhh," David said, lifting his finger to wipe off the sweat that had formed on his nose. "That would be the others," he said, smiling.

"O…ottthers?" Rachel said, her voice wobbly.

"Yeah," David laughed. "The others."


End file.
